| In South America, the power of shape-shifting is often seen as a gift from some spirit or God and is for the purpose of getting revenge. Werejaguars only attack those who have harmed them in their human form. The Mojo tribe of eastern Bolivia regarded jaguars with religious awe and made them the object of a cult. Killing a jaguar brought unusual honors to the hunter; the event was celebrated with dancing and beating of drums. Men who had been wounded by a jaguar formed a special group of shamans called camacoy, and performed the rites connected with jaguar spirits. The belongings of a person killed by a jaguar were consecrated to that animal, and it became the rightful owner of them. Whoever kept for himself even a small part of these possessions was sooner or later doomed to be devoured by a jaguar. Killing a jaguar gave great prestige to the successful hunter and was followed by elaborate ceremonies in which the tribe danced, beat drums around the slain animal during the whole night, then ate its flesh. The paws and cleaned skull were trimmed with cotton ornaments and displayed in the drinking halls among other trophies. The hunter then retired for several days to a temple where he observed many taboos. The jaguar-shaman offered libations on his behalf to the jaguar god and revealed to him the secret name of the jaguar - which the hunter bore thenceforward. The Mojo also believed in a celestial jaguar, who ate the moon and was the father of all earthly jaguars. In their stories, the sky jaguar pursued and attacked celestial deer. Jaguar has also been fundamental to the Olmec civilization. The Olmec were master carvers of jade and other greenstones, and made monumental stone carvings to adorn their temples. Jaguar figures often appear in their stonework and paintings, usually in anthropomorphic form. These Werejaguars (also prevalent in Aztec society) were considered indomitable, and the images were believed to protect against all malevolent forces. The jaguar - especially in the form of a black panther, or black-phase jaguar - was endowed with great magic and power. It was seen as a symbol for mastery over all dimensions. To the Tucano Indians of the Amazon, the roar of the jaguar was the roar of thunder. To the Arawak, becoming the man-jaguar was the ultimate shape-shifting ritual. Central and South American Indians spun a web of supernatural beliefs inspired by the reflective eyes of the jaguar at night, centered on mirrors, shiny surfaces (such as water), rock crystals, shadows, and reflections. Shamans claimed to be able to see the future with 'jaguar eyes'. The realm of spirits was conceived as a parallel world, a mirror-image universe where the potent forces of nature were at the beck and call of the all-powerful, all-seeing jaguar. The following is a Werejaguar story from the jungles of Brazil: A Dutch trader named Van Hielen went on business to an out-of-the-way Native village. He was fond of nature and decided to take a walk toward the forest early in the evening. At the edge of the clearing, far from the village itself, Van Hielen found an isolated hut. He heard shouts of anger and the sound of blows from inside. Suddenly a nine-year-old boy ran out the door. He was followed by a woman who was beating him with a piece of wood. Van Hielen liked children and stepped between the woman and the child. In the Native tongue, he asked the woman why the boy deserved such a beating. "Done?" cried the woman. "Why, he has done nothing. That's why I beat him, the lazy lout. Not a stroke of work will he do. His sister is just as bad. Ah!" she broke off. "There's the wretched child now. She too will get what she deserves." With that the woman lunged for the thin girl of about ten who had come running from the forest at the sound of her brother's cries. Van Hielen was so upset at the children's beatings that he offered the woman money if she would let them alone. She took the money greedily and disappeared into the hut with a glare at the children. "Poor things!" The trader said, "How can a mother be so cruel to her own children?" "Oh, but sir," exclaimed the little girl, "she is not our mother. She only makes us be her servants. You are kind, but do not trouble yourself. My name is Yaranka. My brother and I are the true children of the Forest Spirit, and she will help us to our revenge. We have suffered enough from that woman. We will get help from our true mother tonight in the Secret Place." With this speech, the two children made for the forest, leaving Van Hielen somewhat bewildered. Keeping to the shadows, for the moon was bright, Van Hielen hid himself near the hut. He heard the woman snoring, and not long after he saw two small shadows creep from the doorway and enter the forest. Van Hielen followed them, thankful that his many years in the country had taught him how to move silently through the jungle at night. Even so, he nearly lost sight of the two children many times. They seemed to slip through the tangle of vines and bushes like elves. After some time they came to a small clearing where a waterfall plunged into a pool in a shower of silver. In the center of the pool grew a single large, white water lily. Yaranka and her brother knelt down by the edge of the water and began to chant in an unfamiliar language. Then the children picked flowers from the bank and tossed them into the water. The motion of the tossed flowers made the trader dizzy. Everything seemed to be spinning, and the rush of the waterfall was joined by the rush of a strange dark wind. Out of the earth a vast figure reared itself, shapeless and towering. Then, in a mere flick of time, the figure vanished, the sickening motion in the clearing stopped, and all was as it had been before. Except that where the two children had stood, there now stood a pair of large jaguars. They were so close to Van Hielen that he could count the spots on the sleek heads and even the whiskers of the snarling lips. Van Hielen was a brave man, but he knew he had no chance against two such ferocious hunters at such close range. He saw the two pairs of green eyes gleam as the beasts scented him. Suddenly one jaguar checked its leap and shouldered the other one aside. The two furred bodies rushed past him on the narrow trail, so near that he could feel their breath. Then they were gone. Shaken, Van Hielen pulled himself together and made his way back toward the village. He arrived at the clearing just as dawn broke . Everything appeared as usual - except for the woman's hut, which had paw prints leading into the doorway. From within the hut came the most horrible sound he had ever heard. It was a soft crunch, crunch, crunch, as that of a large animal (or animals?) gnawing on bones. Certain that the woman would no longer beat the children, Van Hielen left without a backward glance. |
